


I Request Asylum

by ProfessorDrarry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hate Sex, M/M, Married Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorDrarry/pseuds/ProfessorDrarry
Summary: a·sy·lum (ə-sī′ləm) (n) 1. A place offering protection and safety, refuge from danger. When Draco Malfoy shows up at Harry's door requesting asylum from an unknown foe, no good can possibly come of it. HP/DM, hate sex, post DH, Spoilers, surprisingly epilogue compliant...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It might get angry, not happy. Warning given, proceed with caution. Don't promise sap this time. These angry men are not mine. They belong to the supreme overlord, and we thank her every day for not banning fanfic writers from getting a bit smutty.

 

Harry sat in the calm silence of the beach side cottage, utterly content. The sound of the ocean waves outside, with the occasional bird, was much better than the tape of 'soothing noises' that Hermione had got for him. There was no one else around for miles, and Harry felt the weight of a million expectations ease off his shoulders. No one to bother him, no one to recognise him. Freedom. Not often felt, these days. Fame seemed to increase three-fold when one vanquishes the dark lord whom had once threatened your whole population. He found minutes of peace nearly impossible to come by.

When the door sounded with a knock, Harry didn't move at first. Mostly, he believed that he had misheard, since it was improbable that someone had found him, and was therefore at his door. When the knocks grew more and more insistent, Harry sighed with resignation - though, honestly, not shock- and went to the door.

He remained calm and collected until he opened the door to a dark hooded figure. Drawing his wand immediately, standing defensively, the figure pulled down his hood, revealing an equally shocked face, and blonde, stringy wet hair. Leading both men to shout at once.

"Potter!"

"Malfoy!" Harry lifted his wand, and began to mutter a hex, when Malfoy shouted over him.

"I request temporary asylum and safe harbour from evil!"

Harry glared open mouthed as the spell he had been muttering died in his throat.

"What?! What the fuck did you just say, Malfoy?"

"Ancient words. A magical bind. If you agree, I cannot harm you as long as I remain here."

"And if I refuse?"

Panic briefly flashed across Malfoy's face, "It is a freewill bind. You can refuse. And then I will be dead, so I will remain unable to harm you. It is your decision, but please make it quickly. I am out of time. If you agree, you have to say, I grant you-"

"Oh, fucking suffering Salazar, fine. 'I grant you temporary asylum."

"And safe harbour…"

"And safe harbour."

Magic flashed around Malfoy's face, and he slumped in relief inside the door, unable to hold himself up any longer, passing into a dead faint. Harry stared for a minute, closed and bolted the door, and went back to sitting in his calm solitude. His life just was not fair.

Draco woke up a short time later to discover he was slumped in a chair, under a full body bind, with Potter sitting directly across from him, fingers templed, squinting out a glare that he may have been holding for the entire time Draco had been out.

"Potter. Release me. I told you, you are under magical bind. There is nothing I can do to you without harming myself."

"Forgive me, Ferret Face, if I was unwilling to take chances. I am in the middle of nowhere, in a cottage on the beach, and no one except Ron knows where I am. So I find it extremely suspicious that you would manage to both find me, and then magically bind me to assisting you. Tying you up was the only option I found reasonable, and I had no rope."

"Oh how I've missed the witty Potter brand of repartee," Malfoy drawled, stretching his neck in a full circle, managing to look at once lithe and predatory, and a tad pathetic, since he was straining against the confines of the body bind. "Release me. Now. Please."

Draco stared at Potter and waited for a reaction. The please had been an afterthought, but he hoped that it would have the desired effect.

"Not yet. I have questions first."

"If you must."

"How did you find me?"

"I wasn't looking for you, so technically I have found nothing. You were just in my escape path. My family has a cottage on the other side of the island. I merely pictured the beach in my Apparation, but apparently my nerves got the better of me."

"What are you running from?"

"Something dangerous. Next."

"I need more details."

"Then I suppose I am to remain tied up."

Harry sighed in exasperation and stood, pacing back and forth, wand in hand. "I haven't seen you in…what, five years? Last I heard, you were still on the run. Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't. Logically speaking, that would be extremely foolish. Although, I can assure you I have not committed any of the crimes I am supposed to have committed. And you know perfectly well why I am still running, despite my innocence. How am I supposed to settle down with you and your lot looking further and further outside the inner circle for Death Eaters."

"'Me and my lot' meaning the well-respected Aurors of the no-longer corrupt Ministry for Magic?"

"Right. No more corruption. Dear Potter, you have completely fallen into every lie they tell you, haven't you? I could tell you stories to make your toes curl. The Ministry being free of corruption is a wonderful dream, but-"

"Don't change the subject. So, you are back in Britain. Why are you in danger?"

"My father is a Death Eater. It's enough, trust me."

"Malfoy-"

"Potter, look, telling you what is going on will serve neither of us. It's not going to happen. So either end this ridiculous line of questioning and leave me tied up, or ask me something that will make you comfortable enough to let me go. Either way, stop wasting our time."

"What vow did I make ten minutes ago?"

"Ancient magic. It was enacted in the days of the Giant Wars, so that enemies who were both wizards could keep each other safe, without the chance of back-stabbing. Until I am safe, I cannot harm you, and no harm can come to you as the result of my peril. Safe Harbour pacts are serious things. Should I attempt to break it, just as in an Unbreakable Vow, I will die."

Harry raised his wand and released Malfoy, who moved his arms in stiffness, shock on his face.

"Oh relax. I may know little of what you have been doing lately, but I do know that Malfoy's are far too self-obsessed and interested in self-preservation to do anything that may lead to death, just for the sake of simple retribution."

"While I appreciate it, there is no such thing as simple retribution, and vengeance against you and your friends would be no exception. Nonetheless, I owe you a debt of gratitude for accepting the vow."

"Well, asylum is not a word to be taken lightly. Aberforth taught me that. I'm going out."

Before Draco could respond, Potter stormed out the door. He would scream in exasperation if he thought that it were a wise decision. Out of all the places to land after a frenzied Apparation, how in the hell had he managed to land on Bloody Fucking Piss-ant ScarHead's front porch? And why had he not just tried to Apparate again? No, instead, he had let his terror get the best of him, made Potter take a vow of asylum, and then passed out. Like a Hufflepuff girl.

Harry walked for two hours along the beach, straight down to the narrows one way, and back. When it started to drizzle a little, he convinced himself it was fine, he was rugged, used to unfavourable weather from field work. There was no way he was going back to the cottage until absolutely necessary. He could not for the life of him work out how or why Malfoy was there. He couldn't decide what to do either. Should he leave and go back home? And if he did, did it mean Malfoy was going to have to come with him?

What was bothering him far more, however, was that Malfoy wouldn't say what he was running from. That was extremely worrying. Malfoy had regularly had Voldemort in his house for over four years. Sure, that had eventually gotten to him, and he had appeared quite afraid at the end, but he didn't back down from a fight. He was, though, a bit of a coward. In Harry's reckoning, the thing Malfoy was hiding from was either absolutely horrific, or embarrassingly not at all. Either way, Harry was displeased.

What he had said to Malfoy had been true. He hadn't seen or heard from him since the Battle. Before that, the last thing he remembered was Malfoy's face running from the house having released Hermione.

The rain became increasingly less ignorable, and he resigned himself to having to return to the cottage when he suddenly became incredibly cold and shivery. He had forgotten, in his distraction, to cast an Impermeable.

He was reminded the second he walked through the door why he had been avoiding the cottage at all costs.

"You're soaked. Never really did take on the whole 'you're a wizard, Harry' concept did you?" Malfoy's sneer had not changed an iota in five years. And neither had Harry's irrational anger in response to it.

"Shut it, arse. You are only here because I am a bloody fool, and you don't need to interject your ridiculously obvious, snivelling comments to remind me.'

"I made food."

"My food."

"Relax Potter, I will move on in the morning. You needn't panic that you are somehow attached to me for life. I will walk out of here out of my own freewill, and the vow will break. I'm going to sleep," he pointed to a conjured mat on the floor in the corner. "Try your best not to hex me in my sleep, and we will both be free in the morning."

Cursing his Gryffindor sensibility, Harry sighed and said, "Wait. The sofa. It's a hideaway. You can use it. The floor gets damp in here."

"I'm not going to question why you know that. But thank you. And Potter, that goes for everything. I know you and I are both unimpressed with this situation, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

Harry merely nodded and wandered over to the kitchen area, lifting lids to discover a bolognese that smelled pretty wonderful. Which was impressive since he hadn't been aware that he even had the ingredients to make a bolognese. He had mostly been eating beans on toast and apples. He ate it cautiously. He figured it would be ridiculous not eat something this delicious just because Malfoy had made it, out of unfounded fears. Still, he was unfamiliar with the vow Malfoy had used, didn't know it's limits. Auror habits were hard to ignore.

Draco fell into an exhausted but restless sleep. It had been a while since he'd actually been in a bed. Even a pull out mattress was a vast improvement over grass patches and damp forest, or stolen barn beds. He wondered at his changed life. His 17 year old self would have been unable to fathom sleeping on anything with less than a 300 thread count. But circumstances must.

It had been even worse this year, with the constant moving, never being in one place for more than a week. Even still, this afternoon, it almost hadn't been enough. He had almost lost. His dreams were punctuated with the possibility of being caught, and he tossed and turned. He was vaguely aware of Potter turning off lights and shifting himself up the short, spiral staircase to the bunks above. It may have been hours later, or five minutes, but the next thing he knows he is jolted awake to a blinding white light, and pounding on the door.

Potter is down the stairs, in only his shorts, wand drawn, before Draco is even fully awake. Impressive, considering HIS newfound reaction time is nothing to sneeze at. Aurors . Too much training, until you needed them . Then, suddenly, they were indispensable.

"Who is it, Malfoy?!"

By this point Draco had managed to get himself up and find his wand, and he bristles at the tone, "They won't be able to get in. The vow."

A particularly violent shake rattles the window, and a gold curse strike fizzles out through the pane.

"WHO IS IT, DRACO."

The voice Potter uses is new to him; it is terrifying and powerful, and altogether commanding. He feels, disturbingly, like it may also be extremely hot, but he pushes that fleeting thought from his mind and goes to answer. He is interrupted by a voice outside.

"Regardless of who is behind this door, harbouring Draco Malfoy, I strongly suggest you break the vow you hold. I assure you he is not worth your protection."

Harry calls back, still in that voice, which now sends a shiver down Draco's spine, "I am in the habit of deciding for myself who is worth protecting. I am also legally obligated to inform you that I am an off-duty Auror, and that you are currently committing an act of trespass on private property."

"There is no point in threats when you are behind an ancient ward. But believe me, we will return."

"That will be unfortunate for you."

Harry stayed fully alert for a full fifteen minutes after five cracks of magic signified the Disapperation of those outside. When he finally lowers his wand, he glares directly at Malfoy, who was now, for lack of a better word, cowering, distinctly behind Harry, sweat pooling on his forehead. Maintaining his "on duty" tone, as Hermione referred to it, he faced Malfoy.

"You will now tell me everything, or so help me, I drop the vow and send you into the night. This cottage is not mine, meaning others are now in danger if they return. So, let's start again. I will ask you once more; who are you running from."

Malfoy stands with his mouth fish faced for a fraction of a second, visibly weighing pros and cons. Harry recognises the expression. He has felt that feeling many times. Finally, Malfoy's whole body crumples into the centre of his tall frame, folding into itself limb by limb. He looks impossibly small and quite broken as he whispers, "My father."


	2. Chapter 2

To his credit, Harry stayed relatively still and listened quietly as Draco explained his rather pathetic position. Despite the fact that he was standing in his only his pants, in the living room, in the middle of the night. He listened silently as Draco explained that he had been running from his father since the night after the fall of Voldemort. Since his father had held him captive for 12 hours, alternating between beating him unconscious, and using veritiserum in increasingly dangerous levels to get information that Draco had freely given before the first drop had touched his lips. Since the moment his mother unbound him at 2 am, handed him a rucksack, and kissed him goodbye.

He explained that, at first, his father had only sent his cronies once every couple of months, until slowly, it had been every half year, and he had managed to settle down momentarily in Switzerland. With the start of the trials, however, the chase had begun in earnest, with Lucius determined that Draco would either testify on his behalf, go down in the fall as well, or die for his insolence. Harry even remained quiet and calm when Draco explained how his boyfriend, who had been running with him, had met with snatchers. Draco still wasn't sure he was alive. He had a feeling that if the scars on his own back were any indication of his father's will, then there was a very good chance that the delicate Sebastien would not have made it through the torture intact. Draco hadn't had time to grieve, since in the past few months, he hadn't been able to stop jumping for more than a day. He wasn't sure how they kept finding him, but he was getting ready to give up.

Draco explained it all, then sat where he was in a ball on the floor and did not move, did not look up, and said nothing further.

"Maybe you should."

"Should what?"

"Give up. I mean, why should you get to avoid the trials? You weren't exactly innocent."

"Was anyone?"

"No. But not all of us were on the side of the 'dark lord'."

"Oh, Potter," Draco still did not look up, merely studied his hands and smiled sadly, cynicism seeping into each syllable he spoke. "You still have such a black and white view. It was charming once, I suppose, but I thought you'd have lost it by now. You see, very few are all good or all bad. Why haven't you realized that? Fine. I deserve to stand trial. But I would argue that I do not deserve to die at the hands of the man who made the choice to bring me into the world, and yet, the one who has always been the most disappointed in me. The man who would keep me chained to radiators when I misstepped as a child. The one who taught me that hatred was the only way to protect yourself from caring about the people you fear. I will stand trial against him. But I will not die because of him. That part, at least, is simple."

The two men stayed silent for a moment. Neither was sure what direction they took next. At last, Draco sighed.

"I meant it, however. In the morning, I will move on, release you from the bond. This is not your problem, nor are you my solution. I did not mean to bring you into it. I assure you, they will not return. They are following me, nothing else. They are keen to avoid more attention."

"Go back to bed. We will go to London in the morning."

"Potter-"

"Never mind, you've already mixed me up into this. I'm not risking letting you get away with that again. As long as you are bound to me, I can't harm you, you can't harm me. That's closer to a truce than we have ever come before. And I think it's time you stop running away like a coward, don't you? It doesn't feel like you've been all that successful in running as it is. I suppose it's your choice. I'm not going to keep you here against your will. But my house in London is unplottable; we can go from there, find you a safe house."

"Bloody auror sense of judgement, I guess? A false belief that I deserve protection? Justice?"

"Maybe. Except I'm not an auror anymore."

"Why?"

"That is a story I do not owe you. I'm going to bed."

And he walked away. There was an intriguing amount of pain etched into his tone and his movement. Draco tried to tell himself that he did not care. That it was just another ploy for Boy Who Lived attention. Still. There was no denying that the pain existed.

Draco stood at the door for a full hour. He had removed all traces of himself from the house. All he had to do was walk out the door, speak the words of release, and move on. Away from Potter and his stupid justice. Away from the confusion of his past crashing into his present.

But back into what? The running, the fear, the being unable to speak to anyone in truths, for fear that they would either be tortured, or get him killed, or both? What Potter was offering was tempting. He wasn't sure what the man planned to do to keep him safe, or why he was even offering when he had the ability to let Draco walk back out of his life, but it was definitely tempting to let someone else take over the thought process.

Finally, Draco dropped his bag and lay back down on the sofa bed, not really sleeping, but definitely not leaving either.

-oOo-

Harry awoke with a bad taste in his mouth. He did not want to go home early. And therefore, he dressed quickly and wasted no time getting downstairs. Malfoy was already up and sitting with his pack on his back on the immaculately made bed.

"Let's go."

Without waiting for a response, Potter pulled Draco's forearm against his own and Apparated before Draco had time to gasp in shock from the touch.

Landing in the middle of a drizzly Muggle London street, in front of foreboding Victorian row houses, Draco looked at Potter with as much indignation as three hours sleep could muster.

"A little warning would have been appreciated. You could have splinched me."

"I wouldn't have. I'm used to side-alonging suspects. We're here. Try not to look threatening. Ginny'll kill you on sight."

"You are still with the Weaslette?! Hm. For some reason, that is very shocking."

Harry decided not to respond, but continued to stride forward towards the middle wall of two places. When they were less than ten feet away, the wall slid apart to reveal a third house, and Harry walked inside, pausing only mentally, attempting to show no hesitation in front of Malfoy. Although, his secret would be out shortly, considering he was about to walk into the lion's den.

"Gin?" He called into the darkness of the corridor, flicking on the lights with a twitch of the wrist. "Ginny?! You here?"

Footsteps came bounding down the stairs.

"Dad!"

"Hiya, James. Mum home?"

"Think she's in the solarium with the baby, napping. She can't hear you. Thought you weren't coming home for a while longer?"

"Bit of a change. Need to go get Mum. This is…Mr. Malfoy."

James, ever polite, always trying to impress his dad, stuck his hand out. "James Potter. Nice to meet you. Do you want a cup of tea?"

Draco wasn't sure how to respond, so he simply shook the small child's hand and shook his head no. The child was quite beautiful, actually. A striking combination of his father's dark hair and his mother's stark complexion, with the green eyes they both had playing in multiple hues.

"Okay, that's fine. Would you like to play snap with me?"

"James, I think we need to talk to Mum first, adults only. She didn't know that-"

"Harry, what the hell?!"

Harry whipped around and found Ginny, wand raised, standing at the end of the corridor. "James, get behind me. Now." James moved quickly, his mother's voice leaving no room for argument. "Harry, the words you spoke to me after we first made love."

"Ginny-"

"Answer."

Harry smirked sadly, "I said, 'Sorry. Would you like a cup of tea?'"

"Fine. So you're Harry." She turned and kept her wand trained on Malfoy, arm now extended to hold James behind her.

"Did you really have to check? How did I get into the house otherwise?"

"Normally, I'd say you had a point. But there is a Malfoy in my house, and I can not fathom why that would be, unless you are under curse, or an imposter."

"It's a long story. Can we just calm down? I will make some tea, ya? And we can talk. Ginny. Wand down."

"Don't take that fucking tone with me."

"Please, Gin."

She lowered her wand only slightly, still on full guard, and walked towards the kitchen. "James, haven't you left Rose all alone upstairs?"

"Ya. But, can't I stay?"

"No, take her some biscuits and ask her to fire-call her mum and dad. I think we may need them here soon."

James sighed, but took the biscuits and ran upstairs again.

Draco hadn't said a word since entering the Potter house. Truthfully, he was extremely afraid. He was pretty sure that nothing was going to happen here, but he had taken a huge risk entering this man's protection, and following him to his house was a poor choice. Now though, watching Potter move around his own kitchen, making tea, deftly opening and closing cupboards and drawers, Draco was aware of two things.

One, Potter's personal comfort had grown significantly since school. He moved with ease and stability, strong and sure of himself. Gone was the awkward movement of his teenage years, the fear that he was being watched, the sinking into his posture as though he was trying to hide. He was in very good shape, too. Not tall (but he never had been), but built. If he were not Potter, Draco may have even considered him…well, gorgeous he supposed. Luckily, he _was_ Potter, and Draco was being purely objective.

Secondly, however, Draco knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that something other than his presence was causing unrest in this kitchen.

The Weaslette sat down while Harry puttered around, and sighed in the deep, world weary way of a very unhappy human.

"You weren't supposed to come home until next week. It's what we agreed. And then you show up early, with Draco Fucking Malfoy, asking me not to hex him into oblivion." She turned to look at him, still standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Speaking of which, will you sit down, you ridiculous git? Do I need to bind you or tie you to something? Or will you remain this pointlessly non-threatening? I will warn you my children are in this house. I will think nothing of killing you."

"He can't harm us." Potter proceeded to explain the whole story, setting mugs of tea on the table. Draco was shocked to see that Potter had made him a cup as well. He nonetheless took it gratefully. He was always freezing, and this fleeing-through-woodland life had not helped. A hot beverage was a luxury and a godsend.

"So, you are telling me that you, who are not supposed to be living here, are now going to stay here, with Draco Malfoy under your protection, in this house?"

Draco looked at Harry sharply. He was becoming increasingly aware of what sort of situation Potter was in, and how much trouble he had truly caused. He blushed deeply in shame, without really knowing why. It was just Potter, after all. But he was just a bit tired of this, of being the problem in everyone's lives.

"It's only for a while."

"Ya, well, find somewhere for him to be this afternoon, and right quick. It's the team party this evening. You can stay I guess, since you are here. I don't want to have to explain him though. The attic, I guess."

"Fine."

Ginny stood up, picked up her mug, and walked off out of the room.

"Come on." Harry didn't even glance at Malfoy, just walked up the three flights of stairs to the attic, hoping he was being followed.

At the entrance to his study, he turned. "You can stay in here for now. I…I was sleeping in here, so the bed is made up, but the sheets are clean. There's a shower and everything on this floor. Make yourself comfortable. You can't see the house from the street, so you'll be safe. James doesn't come up here. Lily isn't walking yet, but you might hear her from here since you are right over her room. Let us know if you need anything. There'll be quite a few people here this afternoon, but you'll be fine if you stay up here. I'm not going to tell Ron and Hermione, if I can convince Gin."

Draco didn't say anything at first, just nodded. Then, as Potter turned to leave, he muttered, "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Fucked if I know, Malfoy. But there you are."

"Are you and Ginny not living together?"

"Malfoy, that is so beyond your business that I am going to pretend you didn't actually ask. Please don't delude yourself. You have made a mess for me and my family. You are here because I don't like to leave people stranded. You are still Malfoy. You were a bully, and worse, you acted a fool in school and got people I care about killed. I mean you no harm, but we are the farthest thing from friends."

Draco merely nodded again. He didn't trust himself to speak. Potter was using the voice again, and having now seen the man in his natural setting, there was no way that Draco could un-classify it as hot. It was not a helpful line of thought, and he was annoyed with himself.

For hours, Draco sat on the floor of the room Potter had taken him to, listening to the distant sounds of a party below. It was oddly soothing, like a snippet of a happier past, the type of moment he had always experienced as a child. He just sat, and dozed, attempting to read every now and then, and discovering that he was simply too tired before drifting off again.

"Mr. Malfoy?" A tentative voice at the door brought her back out of his waking sleep. "I brought you some party food. I thought you might be hungry. I brought water too…they drank all the wine, and I couldn't find a glass."

Draco didn't understand children. He wasn't really sure what to do here. His discomfort let him do what most adults fail to do; he treated James the way he would have treated an adult.

"Thank you very much, James. Water is excellent. I had just run out."

"Would you like to play snap?"

"Sure. Why not."

For half an hour, Draco nibbled on the food he had been brought, mini sausage rolls, empanadas, some sort of delicious duck canape. Food he hadn't eaten in ages. And he played exploding snap with James, losing every time, despite actually trying after the first three games.

"James?! JAMES!"

"Up here, Da!"

Potter appeared at the top of the stairs, looking exhausted and a bit wobbly. "I hope he isn't bothering you."

"I'm not! We were playing snap. I was winning!"

"He wasn't," Draco assured. "I agreed to play. It's been fun. I've discovered I'm quite bad at snap…"

"We are all quite bad at snap, compared to James. It's all he seems to do." Harry smiled fondly at his son, and Draco was a bit disarmed. It was hard to quantify this new version of Potter. "James, it's time for bed."

"Oooooooooh. No, Please?" The pleading received only a stern face from Potter before James gave up completely, "Okayyyy."

As he gathered the deck of cards, Harry studied the now rested and disheveled Malfoy. Harry was a bit drunk, and also exhausted, and unfortunately, the interaction of a calm Malfoy playing cards with his son had put him a bit off guard. Since his life was already in general upheaval, since he had just recently decided that he couldn't deny his attraction to people distinctly not his wife, since he was in the process of assessing those options, it seemed fitting that he been in distress now. And objectively, had he not been _Malfoy,_ Malfoy would have been just his type; taller than he was, lithe and prim, blonde….and, well, pretty really. But he was a Malfoy. Malfoy who had always wreaked havoc on his life and caused him pain, was causing him discomfort now. He pushed that thought out of his head, and went to put in son to bed.

Unfortunately, all that studying did not go unnoticed by Draco, and he was definitely not dealing with it well. Which made the next few events very difficult to comprehend, and completely unexpected, at least to him.

For a few more hours, Draco's brain looped back and forth around the fact that he was comfortable, dry and fed. And all at the hands of Fucking Harry Potter (which had so long been his full name in his mind that it would be pointless to stop now). It was complicated, as far as emotions went, and he hadn't been able to sleep, despite having a real live bed.

Still, when he heard a soft knock at the door, he didn't respond.

"Malfoy? Just left a few things in here I need to grab." Potter's voice was soft and blurred around the edges. He was clearly quite drunk. "You should know…maybe you should know? I was thinking about it. Fuck. You're probably asleep, but I'll say it anyway. I'm sorry. For all that time when I didn't believe you were innocent. Maybe if I had…maybe I could have helped. Anyway, you should know, I'm trying to make up for it now. That's why, maybe. I made a promise….Auror code. Protect all, regardless of past or personal belief. You are all. You'll stay safe on my watch."

Draco, by the time Potter stopped speaking, was crying. Which would have been embarrassing had he not cried so often this year that he isn't even sure he'd mind if Potter saw, for the sake of feeling slightly less alone. So instead of pretending he was asleep, he whispered, "Thank you."

"You're awake."

"Glad I was. I would have missed your sentimental Hufflepuff speech."

"Screw you, Malfoy."

"You wish, Potter." He hesitated, unsure of what to do next, unsure why he was always so determined to attack Potter no matter what, and not entirely sure where his brain was taking him. Just that he was very aware of the fact that he had spent a lot of time alone. So. Very. Alone. Which may have been where his next sentence came from.

"You aren't sleeping with your wife."

"An astute observation."

"You should...sleep with me."

"Wha...I…that's-what are you…fuck off, Malfoy. I don't need your fucking ridiculous Slytherin crap. It's a crap joke, and it's so unwelcome."

"Wasn't really joking."

"How in the bloody merlin-sucking world did you land on that idea, for Salazar's sake?"

"Dunno really. Just said it. Well. I mean. Here's what I deduce. One, I am only here for a minute before I need to continue running away. Two, you hate me, I deeply despise you, and so do all the people we know, so there is no chance of it getting back to them. Three, you are not sleeping with your wife, are drunk, and definitely eye fucked me earlier. We should just do it. I know I could use the…exercise."

Draco was shocking himself. He had no idea what he was saying. There had been no plan for this ridiculous situation when he had let Harry see he was awake. Now, though, it was like his body was moving on its own, directing its own actions. He was suddenly standing, suddenly moving across the room to where Potter was standing near his desk, suddenly backing him up until he sat on the desk.

"I've had significantly worse ideas; you are aware of that."

"Malfoy, back the fuck up."

"I could. I very likely should. I'm not going to." Draco was still advancing, the space between he and Potter rapidly decreasing.

"I'm serious. I will knock you out."

"Mhmm…" Draco had now situated himself between Harry's legs, hands on either side of his thighs, and for all his talk, Harry wasn't moving, not backing away. Although, he was leaning away rather valiantly, swaying only slightly despite the drunkenness. "It doesn't need to be pretty. I'm not asking for you to like me. I just think you, you are gorgeous, and in charge, and that voice you keep using…you can use it all you want. You can take back from me all the crap I gave you. Use me Potter."

Draco ground forward, now completely out of his own control, and grabbed Potter's hair sharply, dragging his teeth down across his jaw and neckline, biting and scraping before kissing his jugular. The soft whine he elicited shot straight down to his groin. Potter pulled his mouth to his own, kissing deeply and hard, pure lust the only emotion. Draco hadn't been kissed with that much need in a long, long time. Which is why it was slightly shocking when he found himself violently shoved away, and on the floor.

Potter's breathlessness took away slightly from the biting words he spoke, "Don't you ever touch me again."

As Potter strode out of the room, Draco came to, as though he had been in a deep and confusing nightmare. He shook himself, whole body, and tried to grasp the full weight of what he had just done. He didn't fully know what had come over him. Kissing Harry Potter wasn't exactly on his bucket list. But had he kissed Potter? Not really, not objectively. He had just been overtly sexual. No romance involved at all. And his whole body was begging him to try again, not to give up.

He had meant what he had said, even if saying it out loud was the stupidest decision he had ever made in his entire life (which was saying something, considering his life). He was alone. He was lonely. And afraid. And, frankly, severely lacking in physical comfort.

And now, he wanted Harry Potter.


	3. Chapter 3

For three days, Harry avoided the third floor like he didn't have one. He sent Ginny or James up the stairs with food, tried to ignore when he heard water running, pretended there was not a Malfoy up there. He hadn't heard anything unusual outside, and there was no evidence of anyone tracking them. Still, it was getting a bit hard to ignore the fact that he had what was essentially a fugitive living in his attic; a fugitive who had kissed him. And…bit him. And. And, well, stroked him. Completely against his will, or course, but still. He was having a hard time clearing his mind.

He argued with himself that it had nothing to do with that. Malfoy was not the cause of his disquiet. No. That was related to his forced leave from work, his 'stress leave', given without choice after he had so severely cocked up that internal affairs case. Plus, this thing with Ginny, the trial separation that was now not really happening (except that he was still sleeping on the extremely uncomfortable bed in the guest room). She glared at him every time she saw him, pissed off that he was in her house again after being the one to request space and time to figure things out. He was also frustrated by not being able to tell any of this to Ron and Hermione, but they were so busy trying to get Hugo's stomach issues sorted out he didn't want to bother him. Malfoy's tongue entering his mouth barely even entered into his host of problems. Even if he kept thinking about it while trying not to think about it while in the shower…

Finally, Ginny voiced the most prominent of concerns, the most pressing issue they had, "Well, you great idiot. What exactly is your plan here? He can't just live in our attic forever. Someone is eventually going to need to know."

"Ya, thanks Gin."

"Well, go talk to him then. Now. He needs to be gone by the end of the week."

That was just the problem, though. Harry wanted, with every fibre of his being, to not be in the same space as Malfoy, possibly ever again. And the real issue was that he wasn't sure why it was; was it because he was so angry that Malfoy had taken advantage of his drunkenness, essentially attacking him, even if no magic was involved? Or, was it because Harry didn't trust himself not to take further action? For there was no denying one very complicated thought, not anymore. He was extremely attracted to Draco Malfoy.

Sighing, he walked up to the third floor after dropping James at school. Before he even had the chance to knock, though, he was dragged bodily into the room and thrown violently against a wall, pinned there by the not-insubstantial weight of Malfoy's body. The advantage was momentarily his, largely because of surprise, as he took most of Harry's ear into his mouth, an oddly stimulating sensation, despite Harry's desire to be anywhere but here.

"Didn't think you'd ever come back up those stairs. Thought I'd wither and die in this room. Which'd be annoying, after you so unceremoniously dumped a very willing man on the floor. Stupid."

Harry was angry now. He was being attacked in his own home. Attacked on his own turf, after having taken Malfoy in out of kindness, not necessity. He pulled himself up and kicked Malfoy's knee out from under him, flipping them both around until he held his wand at Malfoy's neck, their positions now reversed. He had been planning on screaming, cursing him, binding him again. Something. Anything. Until he had Malfoy's face mere centimeters from his own, until he smelled the sunshine smell seeming to emanate from his skin, until he saw the triumphant smile, felt gyrating hips welcome the turn, as though it had always been the plan. Harry forgot his good intentions and slammed his wrist against Malfoy's throat, holding him still as he kissed him with ten times as much need as he knew he had already kissed this man before, biting and drawing blood as he released Malfoy from the wall and backed away.

"Fucking hell, what are you doing to me?" Harry dragged a hand through his hair and backed himself even further back. Further because Malfoy was still approaching.

"I'm just trying to make you realize what an excellent plan this is. You clearly want it. I'm offering. There is no downside to two consenting males releasing some tension. You know I am gay. Is that it? You don't see yourself going 'that way'? You need to stop being so uptight. I'm sure it's not helping your multitude of life problems. Ginny has been quite…enumerative? Not to mention descriptive. Come on, Harry. We won't tell anyone. Just fuck me. It'll help."

"No...I don't..." Harry could not finish his sentence.

"Well, that's an improvement from last time. We've lost the shock, the disgust. Interesting. Been thinking about me, have we? I don't blame you. I'm exquisite. So are you. And your wife is definitely _not_ interested. So that's the advantage to me-"

"Quiet. I just came up here to tell you that you are going to the ministry tomorrow."

"No."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said no. I will not go there. I will walk out in the middle of the night, if you'd rather. I am not your prisoner."

"Then I will have to bind you."

Malfoy, who had stopped approaching Harry, took three quick steps until he was standing beside Harry, ran a hand down the side of Harry's hip, before whispering, "Oh….would you please?"

"Stop that."

"I can't. It's quite clear you don't really want me to, anyway." Malfoy drawled, casting a suggestive gaze to Harry's Muggle jeans.

Until now, Harry had been desperately attempting to ignore the obviousness of how turned on he was. He had been screaming at his anatomy that it was Malfoy causing it, that just because he hadn't gotten any it way too long, Malfoy was not an appropriate substitution. That it was NOT going to happen.

"Enough. I will fucking curse you."

"Dare you to. You'd get fired for sure."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" The innocence in Malfoy's voice was enough to make Harry want to hit him. So fake, so put upon, so obviously just trying to make him angry.

"This. You…coming on to me."

"I am. Well done. You took those very obvious cues."

"Stop trying to fuck with me. It's not going to work. You are going to the ministry."

"Oh Harry, I've been so clear. I don't want to fuck _with_ you."

Harry was now out of directions to take this conversation. And he was fuming. It was definitely just those two things which prompted him to grab the front of Draco's sweater, throw him up against the wall, and punch him in the jaw. Malfoy crumpled, winced, and cried out slightly. When Harry released him, he fell to the ground without attempting to catch himself. Harry hadn't hit him that hard. He wasn't going to fall for it. Instead, he pulled out his authority and said, "Tomorrow. You are going to the ministry."

"Fine. But _tonight,_ I need to take a shower. Remember that, around 11:30. You may go now."

Harry stormed from the room, fuming that he had essentially been dismissed from a room _he_ owned, but not wanting to linger any longer than he needed, long enough for Malfoy to say anything else. Besides, he had to go take care of this…anatomy problem.

No way he spun it in his mind, though, he had a problem. He paced around his guest room for the rest of the afternoon contemplating it. There was no way to avoid the fact that he had now, whether he had initiated it or not, kissed Malfoy twice. Sure, he had not willingly entered into the contact, but there was no way to avoid the fact that he hadn't really tried that hard to end it himself, not until he had _kissed_ Malfoy. And, what's more, what was really messing with his brain, was the fact that it had been a _good_ thing, both times. Heat and lust and passion, need and take, no questioning, no caution; just bruised lips, bloody tang from crashing teeth, dragging of skin, lust bordering on pain. And that was just a kiss. His whole body was begging him to figure out a way to have it be more, to learn what would happen if he had that little caution elsewhere.

His brain, however, was having a hard time catching up. Not only was this a man, which was not something he had hitherto considered his thing (although, he was quickly beginning to think maybe it should have been), but this was Malfoy. The very same Malfoy who had been a constant source of irritation throughout his childhood years. His brain was having a hard time quantifying that. It wasn't so much that he wanted to know if Malfoy had changed. It was really fucking him up that he had realized that he didn't care if he had or hadn't. That no matter what, he wanted those things Malfoy had said earlier; he wanted to be in charge again. He wanted to throw around his power. He wanted to _use_ someone, not care if he was meeting their needs as well. He wanted a good solid fuck.

And as he paced, he realized; he was beginning to care less and less that the person offering it was a man. And Malfoy.

* * *

Although he had no real hope of actually having Harry show up during his shower, he really had meant it, and at 11:30, he gathered up the few things Ginny had brought him for the purpose, grabbed the special, 'fluffiest ever' towel that James had smuggled up to him, dragged his shirt over his head, and wandered down the corridor. He didn't anticipate anything, not really. After all, Potter had avoided him for three days after that first hesitant moment, and he had been drunk that time. Although, he had definitely kissed Draco earlier, deny it as much as he would; no matter what Potter had decided, Draco hadn't initiated _that_ kiss.

Still, there was no point in getting all flustered. It was unfounded, and hopeless.

Which is why he gasped with genuine shock when he walked into a bathroom containing a very naked Harry Potter, perched on the counter. A very naked Potter who pulled him fully into the washroom, before closing the door violently, and pinning his arms above his head against it.

"Three rules."

Merlin help him if that voice wasn't back. Draco lost his own power of speech, and simply nodded.

"One. You don't talk. At all. Two. You tell anyone, ever, anywhere, I kill you, no hesitation. Three. This happens once. And only once."

Without waiting for a response, Harry dragged his hands through Malfoy's hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck, biting and grasping his way down to Draco's chest, grabbing a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, simultaneously making him gasp and bruising the skin below. When he was finally released, Draco moved his hands to wind them around Potter's head, only to be slammed hard against the door again, arms back by his sides and held in place. It was clear that Harry had taken Draco's words to heart; he had a plan, he had ideas, he knew exactly what _he_ wanted. Draco was being used, fully and shamelessly.

The control Potter exhibited was just a little bit frightening. Draco knew he  _had_ actually given the window of permission, but power exerted over him was not something he was used to. His whole life, no one had really tried to control Draco. Even his father's abusive ways had never really been control. Coercion, yes, but for a self-sacrificing reason. And no one else, ever, told what Draco to do or how to do it. No one took dominion over him. He had never even dated anyone who did because he thought he would be unable to stand it.

Harry Potter, however, was quite clearly used to dominance. He was used to being the one who had to decide, who was deferred to, who made difficult decisions for others all the time. He had only become more confident in this power in his time as an Auror, where he was given control over situations constantly, whether it was wise or not. Draco gasped at the strength, the attentions to areas long neglected, yes. But mostly, he gasped at being so thoroughly controlled. He turned off his brain and let Harry take over fully.

Harry had moved on from his nipple, and was suddenly dragging the elastic waist of Draco's sweats down to his ankles, so he hurriedly kicked them off. Without releasing his hands from Draco's wrists, Harry moved them both into the shower enclosure.

"You know we don't actually have to take a shower, right?"

Harry stopped his assault of lips on skin, and twisted the skin beneath his hands on Draco's stomach painfully. 

"Rule number one," he hissed.

At this one reminder, Draco wisely shut up, and instead attached himself to Harry's mouth. Harry seemed momentarily confused at having not initiated the action, before deciding he didn't care. Instead of pulling away, Harry somehow managed to both deepen the kiss, and get the water to convert to the shower, forcing Draco to close his eyes against the fall of water. He briefly wondered what Potter's plan was, but quickly decided he didn't care. In large part because of the insistent tongue that was exploring places he has not had explored, ever. Not to mention the grinding of body against body as Harry grabbed his arse, drawing him close, erections meeting briefly and causing Draco's knees to weaken momentarily. He was slightly afraid of the reaction. If that little friction had him buckling...Although, given the gasp he hears from Harry that he feels in his own mouth, Draco realised he may not need to worry about stamina.

Draco needs too much to continue being passive in this situation, and instead reached down to grasp Harry's long, hard length, possibly more firmly than he normally would, reciprocating the roughness he has been dealing with for the past five minutes. He was rewarded by more nipping at his lips, Harry's hands leaving his head, bracing on the wall on either side.

Remembering Rule One, yet unable to help himself, he whispered cautiously into the ear that was now very close to his mouth, "I don't like to top, Boy Who Lived. That's going to have to be you."

The whimper that escaped Harry's mouth was obviously not something he had meant to allow, but the sentence has it's desired effect. Draco found himself suddenly facing the shower wall, Harry having moved so quickly that he almost fell on the slippery tile, stabilised by a shockingly caring grasp at his hips, steadying him, and pulling him close again.

"Your skin is so pale." Harry didn't seem to be speaking willingly as he stroked the marble skin on Draco's back, rippled and lean from months of moving quickly, never eating enough. Draco doesn't respond, afraid that he was pushing too far as it is, and refusing to speak again. "I don't know what I'm doing. It might hurt."

Draco proved how little he cared by bucking hips back against Harry's cock, which he had been feeling fleetingly against his arse since he had been spun around, which he desperately needed to act, or release him. He was so hard he was relatively sure that if Harry didn't take him soon, he'd come from sheer force if nothing else.

"Am I teasing you, Malfoy? Is it uncomfortable? I wonder if you know what that feels like. People never used to deny you anything. Has that changed?" Harry removed his hands from Draco's back, ghosting over him, not touching anything. The sudden lack of contact was as erotic as a million strokes, and Draco gasped. Which, aggravatingly made Harry chuckle, "Didn't think so."

Draco had had enough. He pushed backwards and shimmied his arse up against Harry's cock, dragging up and down. He was satisfied to hear a deep growl from the other man's throat, and even more excited when Harry squared his hands on his hips, clearly trying to work out how to proceed.

"It's really not complicated, Potter. Line up. Thrust. No different than that bint of yours, just a different locale."

"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry punctuated his sentence by thrusting forward, breaching Draco's entrance with little delicacy. He felt grateful that he was no blushing virgin. The short period of tight-pain could have been significantly worse. But Harry's shocked gasp at the tightness he found in Draco's arse was enough to help him push past the pain.

"Better, isn't it Harry?" Draco rolled his hips, looking for the sweet spot he knew Harry would not know how to find, nearly losing his balance and falling completely when Harry's cock pressed against his prostate. "Fuck. Yes."

"Fuck. Malfoy." Harry's words had become significantly less coherent, his rhythm already sporadic, and Draco felt fortunate that Potter was equally sexually frustrated; he was embarrassingly close to coming, and he didn't want to be the only one.

"Harder Potter. I said use me. I'm not some delicate Hufflepuff."

Harry thrust forward harder and harder, leaned forward to bite Draco hard on the shoulder, grabbing with nails at his chest. It was so painful and perfect, and Draco wondered if it was hate or lust that fueled Potter forward.

"Malfoy. Fucking hell, Malfoy."

"Draco. It's Draco."

But as he said it, Harry became incapable of speech, rocking firmly against Draco's back as he thrust into his orgasm, pulling close and bucking fervently, no sense of a rhythm anymore. The stifled 'nngh' that came from his lips, so close to his ear, sent Draco over the edge too, and Harry's fist thrusting around his cock was hardly necessary as he hit the edge as well.

They both sagged against the shower wall at the same time, and Harry withdrew. He didn't linger, merely pulled back and walked out of the shower enclosure. He said nothing at all as he picked up Draco's fluffy towel, and walked out of the bathroom.

Draco sunk down to his knees, still beneath running water, and tried to convince himself that crying was an absolutely unnecessary reaction to what had just happened.

Harry, for his part, walked to his room, and immediately fell to his knees, head in his hands.

He had no idea what he had just done.


	4. Chapter 4

When Harry awoke the next morning, it was to Ginny standing over him, forcing him to realise he was curled into a ball on the floor of the bedroom, wrapped in his towel.

"It's 11:30. Are you unwell? Why on earth are you on the floor? You promised you would take Lily for the day. I have to go to that meeting."

"I'm...it's fine. I'm up."

"Are you. Well, there was likely a time when I would have been very intrigued as to why you were asleep, naked, on the guest bedroom floor. But we are well beyond that point, aren't we?"

"Very likely, Gin."

With a decisive snort, Ginny retreated from the bedroom, leaving Harry to roll stiffly onto his back, and to deal with the rush of memory that suddenly assaulted him. Deciding not to dwell, he pulled himself up and got dressed. But when he reached the main floor, and sat down on the floor next to Lily on a mat of brightly coloured toys, his mind kept betraying him.

"Well, Lil. I think it's final. It is definitely time to call Uncle Ron."

Twenty minutes and a firecall later, Ron was standing in his living room, covered in soot from flooing to be more direct, and looking very worried.

"What's up, mate. Why the hell are you back in the city? Is something wrong with the kids? Gin okay? I came as quickly as I could."

Harry sighed. This was the part he was not looking forward to, but at the same time, he was clearly no longer in a position to deal with his little…situation. At least not alone.

"You have to not freak out. And I think maybe you should leave your wand here."

Ron gave him a very baffled look, but did as he said. Harry praised the heavens that Ron trusted him so much. He just hoped that the decision would not come back to haunt him, and as he walked up the two flights of stairs leading to the third floor, he surreptitiously moved his own wand to his hand. Who knew what kind of person was going to face him when he opened that door, after what he had done.

He knocked on the door to the study and waited outside, positioning himself slightly out of the door frame. Memories of the last time he had tried to walk into the room were fresh and vivid, and he did not want a repeat with Ron standing right beside him.

Malfoy opened the door, thankfully fully clothed, though clearly lacking sleep, dishevelled and back to the flighty, edgy self that Harry had noticed that first night at the cottage.

"What do you _want_ , Potter."

It was clear Malfoy was trying for his usual drawl, but there was something cracked and slightly manic about it that made Harry bite his tongue. He waited for the penny to drop on both sides of this exchange instead.

"Malfoy.…" Ron's voice was very quiet, which was unexpected, but his mouth was also gaping open, so Harry figured the shock would wear off soon. He turned back to Harry, throwing his hand back in the direction of the door, "MALFOY?"

"It's such a long story."

"It is indeed," added Malfoy, without taking his eyes from Harry. In fact, Malfoy had been boring a path to Harry's soul with his eyes since opening the door. They were full of pain and depth, and they were giving Harry a stomach ache.

"Why don't we go downstairs." Harry was getting extremely uncomfortable standing on this floor, next to this place, with the innuendo flying around, and without the knowledge of when or if Malfoy was going to out him.

They sat around the living room, watching Lily, while Draco watched Potter, as he explained everything to the Weasel. He was sure this was where his safety ended, where he was sure that the pureblood Ron would know the counter bind, and find a way to kill him.

"Anyway, the point is, I've told him I have to take him to the ministry today."

Ron looked from Harry to Malfoy, who was watching them very closely.

"You say you took an oath? A safe harbour bind? I don't think you can, mate. Take him to the ministry, I mean. He's wanted. That would make him unsafe. You take him against his will, anything could happen. To either of you."

"Well, he can't stay here. Ginny is done with him. Both of us really."

"Yes, Ginny is the reason I can't stay here," Malfoy whispered. As quietly as he said it, he was looking directly at Harry again, who felt himself blush despite his best efforts not to look at the blonde.

"Well, I don't really understand why you left the cottage in the first place. You should have called me instead. Maybe we could catch Lucius. That would solve multiple problems at once, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose."

"You are such a git, Malfoy. How is it you have managed to cause Harry this many problems all over again? Honestly. I'd hex you if it was worth the energy." Ron looked at Malfoy with so much contempt and disgust that Malfoy couldn't even hold his sneer. "I'm going to go home and see what 'Mione says. She'll know what to do. I'll take Lily too. You two should go to the ministry quietly, see what you can find in the archives about what his trial is for."

"Ron, how am I supposed to quietly lead a Malfoy into the ministry?"

"Dunno. Cloak maybe?"

"I _knew_ you had an invisibility cloak!"

"Yes, very good. Would you like him to call Filtch for you? Merlin, Malfoy. Shut up already."

"I haven't spoken to you at all, if I recall, Weasley."

"Hey, enough. Ron, it's not the worst plan. Except you should probably come too. I'll get the neighbours to pick up James and take Lily. We should go soon. We'll see what happens."

They both looked at Malfoy, who uncharacteristically broke his gaze, looked at the floor, and whispered, "I don't see what choice I have."

* * *

 

Two hours later, two men walked into Harry's office, and as Ron closed the door behind him, Malfoy pulled the cloak off his head sighing, "It's freaking hot beneath that thing. How did you use that."

"Quiet. Is it your plan for someone to hear you? Jesus, he is such an idiot." Ron looked at Harry in exasperation. "How have you dealt with him being in your house for three days?"

Harry chose not to answer. Unfortunately, Malfoy seemed to disagree. He turned to Harry and smirked, "We've managed."

Harry felt his cheeks go bright pink, and he turned away towards his desk.

"Ron, can you go see if you can find the file on his case in the archives. I'm going to fill in the reports here, and see if I can find a safe house for _him_."

Ron left without saying anything else.

Draco took a look around the office he was standing in. It was surprisingly large, and relatively modern. He wasn't really sure what Potter's life held in it now, but the fine layer of dust over everything made him think that he hadn't been in here for a while. The room was tastefully decorated, with bookshelves lining one wall; all the books here had gloriously boring titles like _Modern Methods of Mediating Magical Monsters_ or _The Auror's Guide to Corralling Gnomes,_ but some were well thumbed, and they clearly all had a purpose.

A tidy row of awards lined the top shelf of one bookshelf, for a variety of things from 'Auror With Highest Distinction' to 'Most apprehensions of dangerous beings'. They were mildly impressive, and Draco may have even _been_ impressed, had he not been overcome with intense annoyance instead. Here was Potter, getting to settle into his life. Getting to get good enough at a job to receive a large office, a shelf with books and trophies on it, a name placard with a name to be proud of, and yet he looked miserable all the time. What on earth did he have to be miserable about? His stable career? His beautiful children who clearly loved him? His big house and friends with cottages by the sea? The more he thought about it, the more furious he became. He did not deserve to have lived his life in the mud, he did not deserve to keep losing the people he let in.

The terrifying thing about Malfoy anger-the thing that had always been terrifying about it- was that it was silent. It crept up on you and had no external warning. It didn't include raised tones unless the Malfoy wanted raised tones. It didn't involve lashing out or blushing or shaking of any kind. It simmered beneath the surface, bubbling and growing. Yet it held itself in check until released. In this moment, Draco's anger needed an escape. And he knew exactly where it needed to go.

He turned slowly back towards Potter's desk, saw him scribbling furiously with a quill on an oversized parchment form, brow furrowed, tongue all but hanging out. And he knew. Placing the cloak back over his head walked towards the desk slowly, keeping his footsteps silent, not disturbing the writing process.

"How are you managing it?" he said, positioned slightly closer to the desk.

Without even looking up, Potter muttered, "Managing what, Malfoy?"

Draco moved even closer so he could lean over Potter's arm as he breathed, "Sitting in the same room as me, alone, and not jumping my bones. We both know rule three was a lie."

Potter was trying not to shudder, which made the shudder even more pronounced. The hair on his neck was standing on edge, and there was a flush creeping up his neck.

"Take off the cloak, Malfoy."

"No. I don't want to."

"I said take it off," Potter had returned with that voice of control, although he clearly hadn't meant to use it. Draco chuckled as he backed up slightly. Potter spun the chair in the direction of the sound, which had been exactly what Draco had been hoping for. He moved forward again, enjoying the fact that Potter couldn't see him, and quickly settled his hands on Potter's thighs, stroking down firmly before pulling the cloak over his head too, and grabbing his hair roughly in the sudden close-fuzziness of the invisibility.

"Why hello there," he husked, smiling maliciously into Potter's still-shocked face. "I know, I know, 'Malfoy, take the cloak off.' But I can't, Harry Potter. I can't. Because you are too ungrateful for all that you've been given. You've really pissed me off. And I think it's time I took something back. And we both know you would like that, wouldn't you?"

Malfoy was still holding his hair, hard, and frankly, the pain was starting to annoy Harry, who was not happy to be out of control. Until Draco settled into his lap, grounding his hips down. And suddenly, he was whining, and reaching his face up to meet Malfoy, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, nipping as Draco let go of his head. Still, this _could not_ happen. Again.

"Stop."

Malfoy paused, pulling back. "Sorry, what?"

"S-stop." Harry sounded less sure this time, but Malfoy stepped back. He may have been wanting this more than anything he had ever wanted before, wanted to return Harry's anger and frustration, wanted to show him what it felt like to be used, but he was not going to take what was not being given. There was nothing that would make him do that to another person, given all that had happened in his own life. So he stood up. He backed away. He took off the cloak.

Harry watched him move the whole time, watching him process everything. He was a bit shocked. He had not been anticipating Malfoy actually stopping, and now he was confused; he was feeling the loss of contact quite painfully. In the past six months, he could count on one hand the number of times that Ginny had touched him with anything resembling affection. At first, he had thought it was the baby, although nothing like that had happened with James, and then when it hadn't changed…well, the truth was he was afraid. Afraid to admit that he was someone who craved touch, affection, who may have married Ginny because she remained in constant contact, caressing and touching his arms wherever they were. It made him feel safe, grounded. Now that seemed to be gone, and here was Malfoy offering to fill the space. It was a strange feeling, the anger and hatred combining with lust and need. It was hard to quantify, and so much harder to ignore.

He watched Malfoy for a few more seconds, then stood, closed the gap between them, stepped their bodies together, pressing limb to limb and sighing at the contact. Then he waited. This was Malfoy's show this time; he didn't relinquish control easily, but he wasn't stupid. He recognised the need to take charge in Malfoy's stance. It mirrored what he so often looked like himself.

Draco didn't hesitate. He backed Potter up until he was sitting on the desk, never releasing his mouth. He wasn't sure how he had won, but he wasn't about to throw the opportunity away.

"It seems rather like a fluke that you managed to work out what to do during our last…adventure. I'm not saying it didn't work out fine, but I think you should experience _experience_ , Mr. Potter."

Harry sat wide eyed as Malfoy released his hair and pulled open his robes, and positioned his head down. Harry cast a hasty lock on the door, belatedly realising that Ron seeing this may result in the death of both parties. Locking the door was the last thing he accomplished before Malfoy's mouth was on his cock, and his brain stopped being able to process information. Ginny had never been a fan of blow jobs, and although her hand jobs had become impressive over the years, this was quite different. And Malfoy had not lied, he was gifted at his craft. Harry was not a small man, and yet, the combination of Malfoy's hands and mouth made it feel like every inch of him was receiving attention, and the sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. If he made it out of this room without having a heart attack, he and Gin were definitely having a conversation.

Draco laughed at how much Potter seemed to be enjoying a very simple blowjob. His assumption that the Weaslette did not go down appeared to be correct. Still, this was not about Potter, and just as things got heated, he pulled his mouth away, and was very satisfied at the gasped shock Potter released.

"Yes. Not so nice to be teased, is it now Potter? Don't worry, we aren't anywhere near finished."

Except that at that moment, Ron knocked at the door violently.

"Harry! Open the door! It's locked! Are you alright? Malfoy, if you have hurt him, I swear to God!"

Draco was not about to be interrupted mid-blowjob, and he put a finger to his lips, cast a Muffilato, and returned his attentions to Harry's cock as Ron continued to shout at the door, casting unlocking charms that had no hope of working.

When they left the office twenty minutes later, they found Ron pacing the corridor in the lobby. Harry had attempted to look less dishevelled, but the look on Ron's face made him question his success until Ron sputtered, "Where the bloody hell have you been? I tried your office but the door was locked and no one was there!"

"I went down to the archives to find you," Harry lied.

"Fuck. I thought something had happened. Everything here?" Ron said, casting a glance back towards Harry's shoulder. Harry simply nodded. "Right. Let's get out of here then. I have bad news and good news. Good news, we can put him into an inquisition instead of trial, so he will avoid jail time. Bad news, I think he's going to have to stay with you."

Draco made a strangled noise that caused Ron to glare at the spot directly above Harry's left shoulder. Harry gulped, swallowing hard. To Ron, it may have looked for all the world like he was reacting negatively to the news that he had to deal with Malfoy for more days. In reality, he was reacting to having to _deal_ with Malfoy; more importantly, he was reacting to the fact that there was no way he was about to stop what he had started.

-XxxXxX-

For three more days, Malfoy slept with Potter. He lived in his attic and ate the food he was brought. He dealt with Ginny's hostility and played Snap with James. He sat and read and acted like the perfect silent stowaway during the day. At night, he would appear at Potter's door. Neither man talked about their situation, neither even acknowledged it during the light of day. It was understood by both of them that the situation was temporary, one of opportunity more than anything else. It was refreshing, this lack of care; neither of them cared what the other one felt. Neither was trying to protect feelings or heal past wounds. Enemies as lovers, each other's playthings because the opportunity arouse. Over the long term, it would have been extraordinarily unhealthy, and both knew it. They both also knew it did not matter. So yes, for three days, Potter slept with Malfoy.

But, on the fourth day, Lucius Malfoy arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

The morning Lucius appeared, Draco woke up in Harry's bed. It was the first time he had not managed to get himself back up to the attic room after, and he was extremely uncomfortable about it. Not that Harry was anywhere near him; instead, he was tucked and curled into the other corner of the bed, carefully avoiding further contact. Cuddling definitely did not fall into the realm of 'acceptable under the circumstances' behaviour, and the fact that he had shared the man's bed in sleep was a little bit disturbing. Clearly he was getting too comfortable. He would have to be more careful. He gently extracted himself from the bed and walked around the room towards the window. Which is how he discovered the reality of how shitty his life really was.

There, standing across the street, was his father. He was staring straight ahead, scanning the houses in front of him. It was clear that he had received some sort of information that Draco was here, but did not know which house, or even that the house was unplottable. He didn't really know anything, in other words. Still, Draco inhaled sharply and turned.

"Potter. Harry! You need to wake up."

When Potter stirred and looked at him, annoyed, he wasted no time. "You need to go get Ginny and the kids, go to the shed, get out of the house."

Harry sat bolt upright instantly.

"He's here," Draco finished pointlessly.

Ginny, predictably calm, nodded at Harry and took Lily from his arms. James sleepily followed along, and Harry watched as they went to the safe house they had disguised as a shed, then returned to the window where Draco was just watching, his rucksack on his back already, muggle jeans instead of robes slung carelessly on his hips. Harry looked out at the street and tried to decide what they were going to do.

What he saw confused him. Where Draco had become even more cat-like during his time on the run, becoming lean and agile, fragile only in appearance, Lucius Malfoy looked more like a rabid dog. His cheeks were gaunt and pale, a substantial amount of stubble marking his pale features and making him look slightly insane. His hair was too long and unkempt, and his clothes were ragged. It was shocking, considering who the man had once been, and Harry tried to ease the tension in the room.

"Bet he wishes he had a house-elf right now."

Draco's head whipped around, and Harry wished he had not spoken, "Potter. Don't. You are witnessing the death of a once-great and well-respected family. While you may find our fall amusing, I must beg you, don't."

Harry looked down and mumbled an apology he did not mean.

"Don't bother. Well. This is the end, I suppose. I must kill him. I see no other way to be free, and you are right. I need to stop being afraid of him. Look at him. He doesn't really know where I am. I can catch him off guard."

"I can't protect you if you kill someone, Malfoy."

"You could never protect me, Potter. Don't worry. I have known that since I made the bind. It was temporary asylum; the words are written that way for a reason. Stop worrying. You owe me nothing. You have…given me far more than I deserved. Go. Protect your family. You don't want to lose them. Trust me."

Harry did not move. "Draco…"

"It's fine."

Harry took one step towards Malfoy, who closed the gap. Pressing close, every inch of every inch touching, Malfoy kissed him desperately, intensely, but briefly, pulling his head hard against lips. When he broke free, he strode out of the room to the front door. Harry didn't try to stop him. He watched from the window as Lucius tried to react, having no time to actually do so. Watched as Draco raised his wand, as the flash of green that accompanied _Avada Kadavra_ struck Lucius in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground. Watched as Draco turned towards the window for a brief second, and watched as he spun on the spot and disappeared.

Harry knew he would never see him again. Knew that if he did, his oath as Auror would require him to arrest him. He fell to his knees and allowed himself a brief moment of mourning, for the loss of his own peace, the loss of the temporary safe harbour he had been provided through Malfoy.

Picking himself up, he went to the shed. James ran and clung to his leg as Harry lifted him, whispering reassuring words. He walked to Ginny, folded her and Lily into his arms. She leaned her head against his chest and looked up at him questioningly.

"It's done."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"Are we?" she said, looking at him through green eyes he knew very well, eyes that were both afraid and grateful.

"I think we can be, Gin. I think we can be."

* * *

An abrupt ending to an abrupt tale.

_\--Finite Incantatem--_


End file.
